


Twitcher.tv Gaming

by what_a_dork_fish



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Autistic Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff, Geralt the gamer, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Jaskier the indie musician, Jaskier | Dandelion Has ADHD, M/M, Mutual Pining, Roach is a cat because you can't keep horses inside, Roommates, it's a match made in heaven y'all, not by either of the bois!!!!, oh my god they were
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23484304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: Streaming is fun, but Jaskier makes it better.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 222
Kudos: 1138





	Twitcher.tv Gaming

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW THIS PUN HAS BEEN MADE BUT FUCK IT 
> 
> Also apparently Henry Cavill games in real life???? Nerd.

Geralt sighed heavily as, yet again, the chat was filled with people demanding to see his twink boyfriend.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” he told them all wearily, and sliced another monster in half, scooping up loot immediately. “He’s a couch-surfer.”

_He’s so cute tho!!!_

_ur tapping him, G-Man_

_bring! him! back!!!_

“No. He’s busy.”

“Who’s busy?”

The chat was immediately filled with heart emojis, all-caps, and declarations of love, as Jaskier snagged his own headphones with mic and plugged them into Geralt’s computer. He knelt by Geralt’s chair to watch the game, enthralled as always.

“Fantastic move, there!” Jaskier exclaimed, as Geralt killed three enemies at once. “I must say, I’m very glad you went back to fantasy games. Call of Duty was getting boring.”

“Nothing wrong with switching things up,” Geralt replied, frowning faintly as he ran into a nest of undead.

“Yes but there’s such a thing as too many guns. Oh! There!”

“I see it.” Geralt switched to bow and arrow mid-fight and shot down the dragon, then switched back to sword and kept going. This was one of the hardest games he’d played yet, and he wasn’t sure he liked it; the enemies tended to be concentrated in certain areas, and then there were long stretches of nothing except pretty scenery. The graphics were top-notch and he liked the story—rescue a princess abandoned in the woods, bring her back to a city, bring glory to your house’s name—but the mechanics were a bit jerky and he had to do a lot of level-grinding. He’d only agreed to test this game publicly because the designer was a friend of Jaskier’s, and Jaskier had done the music.

Jaskier was telling the chat all about how his friend had wanted a very specific sound to go with each level, and how it had been such a pain in the arse (Jaskier still had an accent and sometimes it was very annoying, though the watchers found it charming), but eventually they had come to an agreement, and the music was available as a free download on the game’s site! In between his rambling, he made sure to exclaim over Geralt’s skill and announce disappointment that the key quest items were so boring.

“There is nothing wrong with a steel key,” Geralt grunted as he opened the final treasure chest and received a key and five health potions.

“But it should be fancier!” Jaskier protested, standing and walking around behind Geralt to watch over his head, arms crossed behind his shoulders. “It looks like a jail key, not a boss key!”

“What if the boss is in a jail?” Geralt asked reasonably.

Jaskier, who had sworn not to give away the story but was struggling with that promise, scowled and rested his chin on Geralt’s head. Geralt ignored him. He’d gotten used to Jaskier draping himself on and around Geralt with no rhyme or reason. It did seem to get worse when he was streaming, but at least Jaskier did not impede his playing.

“What’s the lore on the necromancy in this game?” Geralt asked finally, because he couldn’t hold back his intense need to _know_.

“That’s explained later in the story,” Jaskier replied sulkily.

“Hmph.”

“You told me not to tell you!” Jaskier looked over at the chat and scowled at all the people demanding he answer. “No! I promised! You folks are just impatient.”

“Says the man who microwaves his tea,” Geralt muttered.

“It tastes the same, why wouldn’t I? Yes I know about tea temperatures!” This was aimed at the chat. Geralt didn’t smile, but he did feel better, than he no longer had to struggle to be interesting. Jaskier was interesting enough.

When the two hours Geralt had allotted himself was up, he seriously considered ignoring his timer… but Jaskier poked his shoulder and said sternly, “It’s suppertime, Superstar. And the roast is almost done.”

Geralt sighed heavily and began wrapping up, while Jaskier said their goodbyes to the viewers. When the Twitcher window was closed, he glared up at Jaskier, who grinned and asked, “Can I give you a kiss?”

Geralt nodded, and Jaskier kissed his temple. “Come on! Food!”

~

Geralt was supposed to be a zookeeper. He had all the training, all the experience, and he really had been good with the animals. The jaguars had loved him, and would let him sit with them and pet them. But his coworkers hadn’t liked how quiet he was, how he never seemed to show emotion, and how he sometimes wouldn’t speak for days on end. So management had laid him off.

Yennefer had gotten tired of having to come over and remind him to do things other than play Zoo Tycoon for hours on end and eat only turkey lunchmeat and apples, so she had suggested a roommate. When Geralt protested, she had just stared at him in that particular way she had, until he gave up and agreed to put up a flyer or something.

“No,” she’d said, “I have the perfect roommate for you.”

And Jaskier had arrived, with a guitar, a suitcase, a laptop, and a smile.

Geralt still wasn’t sure what had happened, because it had all been done so fast. Within a week, Jaskier had cleaned the house and learned Geralt’s habits (“The plates go over there.” “Are you sure? They’re harder to get to.” “They go over there.” “Alright.”), done all the laundry and cut all the tags out so Geralt didn’t wear the same t-shirt for eight days in a row because he dreaded the scratch of a tag, and learned all the recipes Geralt wrote down. The only thing Jaskier asked in return was the use of the entire basement for recording his music, which, since Geralt never went down there anyway, was a fair trade.

Jaskier was the one who got him into video games, too. He’d seen Geralt mindlessly build zoo after zoo, and asked, “Have you tried Animal Crossing? It’s really relaxing. Here, you can have my DS. Let me know if there are any other games you want to play!”

Geralt had decided he liked Animal Crossing, because the graphics were cute and the animals talked to the player, but the player didn’t have to actually speak back. He couldn’t play it for long, because it was too much socializing, but it was… nice.

So he looked up other games.

“Oh, Pokemon? Yes, I absolutely have one you can play! It’s not the newest version, but it’s my favorite. Do you want help choosing your starter?”

“...No.”

“Alright, that’s fine!”

Later:

“Legend of Zelda is brilliant! I have been _dying_ for the chance to play Twilight Princess, I’ll get my friend to part with his Wii for a while so we can play!”

Later:

“Titan Quest? I personally haven’t played it, but my friend back in Denmark—did I tell you I went to school there?—he loves it. I can get you a copy, I know you’re saving up for a new car.”

“You don’t have income.”

“I have a _little_.”

“Guitar lessons don’t pay well.”

“Ah, but Geralt, my friend, I have also been hired at a themed restaurant! I get to wear medieval clothes and serenade cosplayers! It’s really fun!”

Later:

“You should try this new site, it’s called Twitcher, people play games or draw or do music and other people get to watch and engage! You get commissions sometimes, for the games you play, depending on how many people watch. It might help with rent.”

Geralt, who had learned to listen to Jaskier without paying attention, cocked his head in interest. Jaskier, sensing this, continued. “I know there’s lots of Twitcher streamers who use the income to pay for basic needs. I’m not saying you should expect to be the highest grossing Twitcher in the world; but maybe you can get a little bit. You’re very good at gaming, Geralt, and I know you like it.”

Geralt had the thought that it was very strange how, in just a month, Jaskier had learned almost all of his habits, and had never judged. When Geralt wanted to be alone, Jaskier went away; when Geralt wanted another living being in the room, Jaskier was willing to lounge around and practice his newest songs he’d written and sometimes talk and talk and talk like the silence was an enemy and he was going to defeat it single-handed. If Geralt wanted silence, he could give Jaskier a certain Look and Jaskier would subside, smiling sheepishly, but he wouldn’t speak again until Geralt said something first. Jaskier had a schedule, too, and Geralt liked it, so he followed it too. Jaskier had seemed surprised, but taken it in stride, and poked Geralt towards doing things other than go to the gym and play video games. Geralt had rituals now, that Jaskier flowed around like water, and it was nice. It was like working at the zoo, but Geralt and Jaskier were the animals and had to provide their own enrichment.

So Geralt made a Twitcher account, bought a game that Jaskier had been excited about, and played it.

It took many months to get regular watchers, and they were the kind of people who just wanted to see the game, not hear someone talking over it a bunch. Geralt appreciated that.

Then he started getting more watchers, and then more. He told Jaskier that people kept goading him to talk, and he didn’t know what to say, and Jaskier replied, “I’ll talk for you.”

So that’s how it all happened. Jaskier was his roommate, and Jaskier gave him video games, and Jaskier was the only person in Geralt’s life who cared about him. And Jaskier was _not_ his boyfriend.

~

“You changed the recipe.”

“Not really.” Jaskier shoved another heaping spoonful of peas into his mouth, chewed busily, then swallowed. “You said there was too much fat on the last one, so I got this one from a butcher I know who gets her cows from a local farmer who breeds for lean meat. Less demand, so it’s cheaper, but also there’s less mass. Still. Is it worth it?”

Geralt looked at the neat slices of roast on his plate. Jaskier had done the grocery shopping this week, so Geralt’s supply of ramen, lunchmeat, and pickles was low; but Jaskier was also doing the cooking this week, so every night was something different. Jaskier was good at taking the foods Geralt liked and making new dishes out of them.

“It’s worth it,” Geralt finally said, and finished mashing his peas into his potatoes. He did not miss Jaskier’s smile.

Jaskier sat in different places every night. Geralt always sat at the table. Sometimes Jaskier would join him; sometimes he would sit on top of the table. Sometimes he sat on the couch or in the armchair normally; sometimes he would perch on the arms or backs of the furniture.

“I’m bi and I have ADHD,” he’d told Geralt once. “I am physically incapable of sitting “correctly”.”

Currently he was sitting on the footstool with his legs crossed and tucked in, as his plate and glass of milk (“It’s healthy, Geralt!”) rested on a side table that usually held a lamp and Geralt’s newspapers. Right now it held a book of poetry by Byron, Jaskier’s favorite poet from the period. Jaskier wasn’t reading. He was staring off into the distance with a thoughtful look as he ate, and sometimes he spoke.

“A friend of mine wants me to come to his birthday party next week.” A pause for chewing. “Not really sure I should go. His girlfriend makes me uncomfortable, but when I tell her to back off she tells me I’m being sexist. Friend won’t listen, he’s besotted.” More thoughtful eating. “Maybe I’ll meet him at the mall or something and I’ll buy him some stuff from Hot Topic. As a birthday present.”

“You’re broke right now,” Geralt said. Jaskier often asked for help budgeting.

“I got about twenty sales on my latest album thanks to that stream. I can afford to spend twenty dollars.” Jaskier wiped up the last of his potatoes with the last of his beef. “Actually, now that I think about it, it would probably be better for him _and_ me to just meet somewhere. He only goes out with her, and she’s always complaining how they’re not going anywhere _she_ wants to go.”

“Why haven’t they broken up?”

“Hell if I know. Maybe it’s the sex. I slept with her a few years before they got together, it was pretty great. Do you want more potatoes?”

“No.”

“Alright, I’ll put what’s left in the fridge.”

Geralt watched Jaskier go to the kitchen and wondered if it was normal to like the way someone’s butt looked in tight denim.

~

Jaskier had told Geralt it would be best to have a twitter, to announce when he was starting and ending streams. Geralt only followed Jaskier, who “tweeted” about eight times a day, and Yennefer, who “tweeted” her porn drawings and “signal-boosted” her Patreon. He didn’t _like_ Twitter. It was confusing and the bright background and colors made his head hurt. But when he made a tweet saying he was going to be playing Undertale, without Jaskier, he was surprised by the number of people complaining and actually _demanding_ that he make Jaskier join the stream. So he got up from his computer and went down into the basement to ask Jaskier about it. He was better with people than Geralt.

Over the past two years, Jaskier had accumulated plenty of recording gear and instruments, and had made the cold grey concrete box less cold by covering the walls in posters, whiteboards, picture collages of his friends from traveling, and tapestries. The floor was layered in old rugs, so that even barefoot, the floor was not icy.

Currently, Jaskier was tuning his guitar; he looked up and grinned as Geralt stood on the last step down, unwilling to step on the cold floor. “Hey! You alright?” Jaskier asked. “You’re usually getting ready to stream by now.”

“People want you to be there,” Geralt said.

Jaskier’s grin faded a little. “Pardon?”

“On Twitter. People are angry because I said you were busy and wouldn’t be there.”

“Oh.” Jaskier frowned, then leaned over and picked up his phone from his computer desk. Geralt stood on the step and waited, as Jaskier poked buttons, then scrolled, then began to look angry. Finally, he said in clipped tones, “Don’t worry about it. If anyone gets shitty, you can report them.”

Geralt hesitated, wanting to ask if Jaskier would come join him anyway… but in the end, all he said was, “Alright,” and went back to his computer-room.

Twitter was still open. He blinked, when he refreshed his notifications, and saw Jaskier replying with increasing anger to people who thought he was just there to be secondary entertainment when he had his own work to do. Geralt almost missed the time to start streaming, he was so fascinated by Jaskier’s ire.

But when people began to join the stream, it was an outpouring of appreciation, and telling him it was fine if he didn’t talk, it was nice to just watch. The chat was full of heart emojis of different colors and shapes. Geralt rubbed his mouth with his hand as his face began to heat up.

_OMG UR BLUSHING!!!_

_oh my god thats cute!_

_It’s cool if Jaskier doesn’t come by, I like the way you play._

_you’re BLUSHING_

_ur so cute oml_

Geralt cleared his throat, muttered a quick “Thank you,” then started playing.

It was a quiet time, a nice time. He completely forgot that the world was happening, because he was playing his game. The chat was still full of hearts. Occasionally someone got snippy about waiting for Jaskier, but others quickly drowned them out. Once in a while someone would ask a question that normally Jaskier would answer, but since it was just Geralt, he did the speaking. A few new people commented on his lovely voice, but that made him blush again, and then there was another rush of comments about him being cute.

One question in particular caught his eye, and, for some reason, soured the whole day.

_If you’re not dating Jaskier can I slide into his DMS? He’s the otter of my dreams._

“I supposed you can ask him,” Geralt said stiffly. “I don’t know what “otter” means but I’m sure he would be flattered.”

Then of course he was distracted by the game, and forgot for a moment. He was still annoyed, though.

The stream ended. He said goodbye, and was surprised at the number of people saying that the Twitter jerks were finally shutting up, and no matter if Jaskier was there or not, they appreciated his continuing to play. It made him feel better.

Then, when he had shut everything down and stood up, the door banged open and Jaskier entered, looking absolutely furious.

“I am going to _kill_ whoever called me “the otter of their dreams”,” he snarled.

“Why?” Geralt asked, surprised.

“Because I looked at their twitter and they’re some sort of sadist. I’ve said multiple times, I’m not into kink! I’m vanilla as fuck, why is that so hard to understand?!”

“That’s not why you’re angry.”

Jaskier pressed his lips together tightly, and Geralt saw with horror that there were tears in his eyes. “People said things,” Jaskier snapped. “They always do, though. I blocked a bunch of people, and sent you a list. You should block them too.”

“Jaskier.”

“What?”

“What’s your latest song about?”

Jaskier blinked, hard. Then he said, “I’m writing about someone I have a crush on. I have to change a bunch of lyrics, though, so they don’t know it’s them.”

“Can I hear the instrumental part?” Geralt asked. He didn’t really care, except he did. He thought maybe thinking about music would make Jaskier feel better. He didn’t like the thought of Jaskier being hurt enough to cry.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’ll get my guitar.”

They arranged themselves in Jaskier’s bedroom; Jaskier sat on his desk with his feet on his chair, Geralt laid on the bed on his back, and Geralt’s cat, Roach, a beautiful russet-brown long-furred beast, laid on Geralt’s chest, purring. Jaskier started out with the song he had written, but when he had finished that one, he paused, frowned, smiled, and started playing a different, bouncier song, and singing.

“Her fur is coffee in the sun, her eyes are chocolate-brown; O Roach, O Roach, O best of cats, the cuddliest bug around! Her favorite treats are salmon, oh who ever could deny, she’s earned every crunchy bit, O Roach of the tawny eye!”

Geralt smiled, as Roach purred harder, and Jaskier laughed.

Jaskier continued serenading Roach, who rolled over on her back and let Geralt pet her tummy twice before biting him delicately, and Geralt continued listening, pleased that Jaskier wasn’t on the edge of crying anymore. It was six o’clock when Jaskier sighed regretfully and said, “I have to get ready for work.”  
  
Geralt picked Roach up, stood, and put her down on the bed, where she immediately curled up in the warm spot and kept purring. Then he told Jaskier, “Thank you,” and left the room.

Jaskier always changed at work, but he also always put his tights (“They’re called _leggings_ , Geralt! You have _no_ respect for historical accuracy!”) on before he left, so he wouldn’t struggle with them at work. He had to put on looser jeans over top, but the few times Geralt had seen him in his tights (or leggings or whatever), he had looked exceedingly good. Geralt kind of hated that.

“Bye, Geralt, I’ll be back at one, don’t wait up!” Jaskier called down the hallway, before rushing out the door.

Geralt settled in his chair at his computer desk and decided to see if there were zookeeper openings anywhere nearby. His old workplace was hiring, for the same job he’d been fired from, but he’d already sent applications and been ignored. The nearest opening was one city over, and Geralt couldn’t afford that commute.

So he went on twitter and looked up all the people Jaskier said to block. A lot of them made him angry, especially the ones who were homophobic and called both Geralt and Jaskier cruel names. One man replied to Jaskier’s angry comment that they were not sleeping together with “I hope he r*pes you every night”.

Geralt reported him, blocked him, and made a tweet that said _Any threats against my roommate WILL be taken seriously and I WILL be reporting and blocking all of them_.

Which necessitated going through all the replies to report and block everyone who threatened Jaskier. The threats against Geralt, he didn’t care; if someone tried to hurt him, well, he still went to judo practice every week, and Jaskier had introduced him to boxing. But anyone who said they were going to dox or hurt Jaskier was an enemy.

He had to play Animal Crossing for three hours to calm down after that, and as such was awake at midnight, far past his usual bedtime. But he didn’t care. He was anxious. He could hear Roach running up and down the hall, skittering and running into the walls. So he went out and played with her, and gave her treats, and let her climb on his shoulder and groom his hair (he really should get it cut, but Jaskier said it looked cool).

Jaskier came home at 1:30 AM, looking exhausted but exhilarated. He saw Geralt sitting on the floor, playing with Roach, and immediately set his guitar to one side and sat next to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking very worried. “Usually you’re asleep by now.”

“Went on Twitter,” Geralt grunted.

“Oh.” Jaskier looked ashamed. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Are—”

“A man threatened to find you and hurt you.”

“...Oh.”

Silence, except for Roach’s growls as Geralt jerked the feathers around and around and she chased them with great exuberance. Then Jaskier scooted closer and curled up next to Geralt, not touching him. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Geralt shook his head, put the stick with the feathers on it down, and did what he never had done. He turned and hugged Jaskier, tightly. “Not your fault,” he grumbled.

Jaskier tucked his head against Geralt’s shoulder and murmured, “Okay. I’m still sorry. I—I’m grateful you care.”

“Of course I do. You’re my roommate.”

“Am I your friend?”

Geralt hesitated. He didn’t have _friends_. Yennefer wasn’t a _friend_ , she was an acquaintance he’d had a fling with and who had decided to mother him. He had never been able to be _friends_ with anyone. He was too quiet, too observant, too big, too fast. No one had ever _wanted_ to be his friend.

Except Jaskier.

“Yes,” Geralt said softly. “You are my friend.”

Jaskier scooted closer yet. He smelled like beer and flowers. “You’re my friend, too.”

~

Jaskier joined the next stream, and acted completely normal, like he hadn’t received threats of violence yesterday. Geralt finished that game Jaskier’s friend had made, then, because it wasn’t time to stop yet, he started up Undertale. Jaskier was very eager to watch this one, too, and give all kinds of trivia. People in the chat begged Geralt to talk more, like he had yesterday… so Jaskier said innocently, “I’m gonna go bug the cat,” and sauntered out of the room. Geralt sighed heavily, then reluctantly began watching the chat more closely again.

_YOU HAVE A CAT????_

_BRING US THE CAT_

_CATCATCATCATCAT_

Geralt covered his microphone and leaned back in his chair to call, “They want to see Roach.”

_OMG HIS NAME IS ROACH????_

Jaskier was there in record time, cuddling Roach, who twisted out of his arms to trot over and leap into Geralt’s lap. He pet her a few times and said, “This is Roach. She’s mine.”

“She’s a one-man cat,” Jaskier sighed theatrically, kneeling beside Geralt’s chair again. Roach slapped his face with her tail, making him splutter.

So Roach became a fixture of the gaming, too. She would sit in Geralt’s lap, or put her paws on the desk and watch the movements of the game, or just lay limp on his shoulders and purr into his mic. Jaskier was usually there, lounging and draping and talking, talking, talking. But he was getting more popular at the restaurant; people were putting his performances on youtube. So he had to write more songs, remaster old ones, and sometimes stayed in the basement for days on end, only coming up to bolt his dinner before racing downstairs.

Geralt was lonely when Jaskier wasn’t there, but also sometimes Jaskier was too much. Roach was enough, quiet and warm and soft. He got more regular watchers, and people started paying him to play their games and then write reviews. He was always truthful, and sometimes that made game devs angry, but people still bought the games, so they couldn’t really sue him or anything.

Eventually, Jaskier set up a Patreon, and the middle tier was private streams where Jaskier and Geralt played competitive or “party” games. That tier was the most popular, and Geralt felt strange about that, but he liked playing games with Jaskier. He made sure to throw some matches, so Jaskier would smile; but it also made Geralt feel funny inside when Jaskier pouted in fun.

Jaskier released a five-song EP titled “Just For You” and it sold 322 copies in the first week. Jaskier ran into Geralt’s room midstream to hug him and babble the news before running out to grab his phone and call Yennefer. But when Geralt asked to listen to it, Jaskier blushed and shook his head.

“You’ll know who it’s about,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Why don’t you tell them that you like them?” Geralt asked reasonably.

Jaskier looked extremely unhappy. “I don’t want to make them feel weird,” he replied.

Geralt nodded in understanding. He couldn’t tell Jaskier that Geralt thought he was cute and funny and talented and sweet and wonderful; what if Jaskier thought their friendship couldn’t work after that? So he understood Jaskier’s reluctance.

~

It was Yennefer’s fault, really.

She came storming into the house during dinner, while Jaskier was perched on the edge of the table next to Geralt, and snapped, “Geralt, _why_ am I getting requests to draw you two kissing?”

Geralt halted mid-chew. Jaskier went rigid.

There was a long silence. Then Yennefer threw up her hands, shaking her head in disbelief, and turned to Roach, who was sitting on the couch. “They don’t know, Roach! They honestly don’t know! Fuck, I’m going to—” She turned to Geralt and Jaskier again. “People keep asking me to draw porn of you two,” she said angrily. “Because apparently you’re so popular that people are shipping you.”

“Shipping?” Geralt repeated blankly.

“Absolutely not,” Jaskier snapped, sliding off the table. “That can’t be right, someone would have said something to us—me!”

“What’s shipping?” Geralt asked.

“Why would they say anything to _you_?” Yennefer retorted, ignoring Geralt. “You two are so ardent that you’re just roommates that people are doubling down on it. Are you going to say it in words or do I have to play the album? Because I have it on my phone.”

“What’s—” Geralt repeated, louder, frowning—and then he stopped, because Jaskier actually dropped his plate, spilling mac’n’cheese on the floor. Geralt looked up, surprised, and saw that all the blood had drained from Jaskier’s face.

“Please don’t,” he said softly.

“I will,” Yennefer threatened, pulling out her phone. “Say it _now_ , Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s lip trembled, and Geralt felt a hot rush of anger that roared in his ears and burned in his veins and made him stand and say to Yennefer, “ _Stop it._ ”

She looked at him in surprise, like she’d forgotten he was there. To fill the ringing silence, Geralt continued, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about but scaring him over it isn’t okay. _Leave_ , Yennefer.”

She swallowed hard, hesitated, then drew herself up, tossed her hair, said tightly, “Fine,” and swept out, slamming the front door behind her. Geralt stalked over and locked the door behind her.

There was another space of silence. And then Jaskier sniffled.

Geralt immediately turned, snagged Roach from the couch, and went over to Jaskier, still standing in the same spot with his hands over his mouth, trying not to cry. Geralt wanted to hug him, but he didn’t know what was wrong and if that would make it worse, so he draped Roach over Jaskier’s shoulder (Roach only grumbled a little) and said, “You can go to your room. I’ll clean this up.”

Jaskier looked up at him, and his expression was so confused and pained and lost and miserable that Geralt almost hugged him anyway. But the minute he took a tentative step forward, Jaskier scooped Roach into a better position and walked away quickly. He shut his bedroom door behind him, but Geralt could hear his sobs as he picked up the bigger pieces of the broken plate and swept up the noodles and shards left behind. By the time he had finished mopping the spot and cleaning the broom, Jaskier had subsided.

It was time for a stream. Geralt went to his own room and logged on to say a personal issue had come up and he couldn’t stream that night. He was very sorry but this was important.

Someone asked if it had to do with Yennefer’s angry tweets about real-person porn. Geralt replied no.

Geralt let Jaskier be for a few hours. Then he got out the bottle of scotch that Jaskier liked so much, picked up two glasses, and knocked gently on Jaskier’s door.

Some light thumps. Shuffling. Jaskier opened the door. His eyes and nose were red and he still looked miserable.

“Can I come in?” Geralt asked, holding up the scotch.

Jaskier nodded and moved out of the way, and Geralt entered.

Jaskier’s room was always a mess. Geralt had let him have the “master” bedroom because Geralt had never needed it, and over the years Jaskier had filled it with books, a small TV, baskets of clothes, knicknacks, and a truly incredible collection of stuffed animals. The bed and the computer desk were the only two consistently clean places.

Jaskier sat on his bed. Geralt sat in the computer chair, rolled it over to the bedside table, and poured them both drinks. Jaskier drank his in three gulps, and Geralt silently poured him another.

“Shipping is where people think two or more other people are romantically involved,” Jaskier said after a moment, staring at the floor. Roach leaned against him, purring. “Real person shipping is considered gross, because it’s an invasion of privacy and can be really violating. People shipping us means they think we’re in a relationship.”

“Hmm,” Geralt said, because he wasn’t sure he understood, but didn’t want to push if Jaskier didn’t want to talk about it.

“People asking Yennefer to draw porn of us, her friends, is really gross on all counts. We’re not together. She doesn’t know the details. She’s the only person who knows us and _cares_ —”

“You know me,” Geralt interrupted, frowning. “And I care about you.”

The ghost of a smile played over Jaskier’s lips, and Geralt was hit with the intense urge to kiss him until he smiled for real. He did not, though. “Yeah, but that’s the problem. We’re close, so people think we’re involved. And they’re clueless enough to think a friend would be willing to draw us naked.”

Suddenly Geralt had an inkling of why this bothered Jaskier. He had never been ashamed of tight or revealing clothing—his favorite summer outfit was a pair from his collection of “booty shorts” and a croptop—but actually being nude made him uncomfortable. He declined leaving the bathroom in his towel, even when Geralt was engrossed in something else with his door closed; and the few times he’d come to the gym with Geralt, he’d absolutely refused to use the changing room when there were other men in there. It was something Geralt agreed with, but the fact that Jaskier didn’t even like being shirtless, and was uncomfortable when Geralt forwent a shirt, had always puzzled him. So Geralt understood why Jaskier didn’t like strangers wanting to see his naked body.

Before Geralt could think of what to say, Jaskier blurted without looking at him, “Aren’t you going to ask about… what Yennefer said?”

“No,” Geralt replied. “You didn’t want to answer.”

Jaskier finished his scotch and poured himself more. Geralt finished his first glass and declined a second.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Jaskier said suddenly.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.”

“Okay.”

~

It took a week for Jaskier to tell him. It was a Saturday; he’d gone out drinking with friends, and when he came home he bumbled down the hall to Geralt’s room and leaned on the doorframe.

“I wanna talk to you,” he slurred, and promptly slid down the frame as his legs folded. Geralt, who had been sitting up in bed with a book, immediately went to him and helped him sit up straight. Jaskier’s head wobbled a little, but he blinked hard and focused on Geralt’s face. “I wanna talk to you,” he repeated.

“You should go to bed,” Geralt tried to say, but Jaskier shook his head.

“I love you!” Jaskier blurted.

Geralt blinked.

“I love your face. I love your hair. I love your voice. I love that you care about me. I love when you hum while you cook. I love when you smile at Roach and you think I’m not looking. I love when you look at my butt. I love how you always make sure there’s Cadbury in the house. I love that… I love when… Geralt, say something.” Jaskier grabbed the front of Geralt’s t-shirt and tears welled up in his eyes. “Geralt, _say something_.”

“I love you too,” Geralt said softly, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

Jaskier stared at him dumbly. Then he grinned, and started laughing, and crying, and flung his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt hugged back, a little scared, but feeling tentatively that that was the right thing to say.

He got Jaskier to his room, but Jaskier insisted Geralt stay, so he did. They curled up in Jaskier’s bed and Geralt just watched him sleep for a while, surprised that Jaskier had said any of that. He probably wouldn’t remember in the morning.

Selfishly, Geralt wanted Jaskier to remember. He wanted it all to be true. He wanted Jaskier to know that he was loved.

He fell asleep around 2AM, holding Jaskier tightly.

~

Three months later, Jaskier said, “Wow, do you bleach your chest hair too?!”

“No,” Geralt said, vaguely uncomfortable but hoping Jaskier couldn’t tell.

“Huh.” Jaskier ran his fingers over Geralt’s chest, apparently fascinated. “It just grows grey-white?”

“Yes.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Jaskier paused, and met Geralt’s eyes. “We don’t have to if you’re not ready,” he said, for the fourth time.

“I’m ready,” Geralt lied, again.

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. Then he said, “Well, _I’m_ not,” and fell over on his side next to Geralt, not touching him.

They were both shirtless and in Geralt’s bed. He hadn’t let anyone into his room like this since he was fired. But Jaskier had kissed him a little deeper than usual while they were watching a Netflix show, and Geralt had decided maybe it would be okay. He could barely remember how to do sex, but Jaskier was more than willing to give him a refresher course.

But then Geralt had started getting nervous. He liked Jaskier too much. It hit too suddenly, seeing so much bare skin and knowing it was for him. Lying on his bed letting Jaskier kiss him and unbutton his jeans. No, it was too much. But he didn’t want to say that. But Jaskier had guessed, and now they were just lying in bed together.

“We can wait,” Jaskier told him, and rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder. “I like this, too.”

“I feel like I should be ready by now,” Geralt muttered self-consciously.

“Nah. It’s only been a few months. We’ll go slow. Besides, I’m not done with my next song about you. How can I give my fellow gays proper yearning if we have sex before I’m done?”

Geralt had to smile at that.

**Author's Note:**

> [Holds out my cupped hands. In them is a piece of paper and a pen. My eyes fill with tears.]
> 
> Comments?


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